Green Tea and Pink Snow
by Koichama
Summary: Kurogane instructs Fay during a traditional tea drinking ceremony. The ninja is determined to teach Fay proper etiquette. However, Kurogane has more to learn from this lesson than he originally thought - a reflective look at their relationship. Kurofay


Skip the intro note if you feel like it. It is not necessary to read it to appreciate the story. The notes are only a small bit of self-reflection.

Intro Note: This fic began with a simple concept (green tea ceremony) that just mutated into something a little more complicated. Before I knew it, I was tying multiple themes together into a one-chapter fic. I don't know why I do this to myself. However, it happens quite often; I layer ideas upon ideas until the project eclipses the original concept…le sigh… This habit is all too common for me.

Note II: Edited and improved.

Warnings: Xenophobia, slight innuendo, pg-13 cussing, a frustrated Kurogane, a frustrated Fay, mentions of violence, and projectile food.

**oOo**

_Swish. Swish. Swish. _

The liquid swirled in the basin, creating small green waves that beat against the rim. An ivory hand mixed the thick substance with a delicate brush. The woman's half-lidded eyes regarded her task with serenity. Each stroke was quick but calculated.

Ebony hair and silk robes spilled onto the patio where she sat. The orange sun blanketed the yard, giving her a warm glow. Sakura petals, soft and pink, scattered around her, the gentlest wind carrying the hapless petals away. When she spoke, her voice floated just like the petals.

"It doesn't matter how different we are. We're all the same where it counts. We all feel. We all hurt. We all love. Everyone would be a lot happier if we accepted the little differences. Unfortunately, many don't even understand themselves, so they couldn't possibly begin to understand others. They fear those who are different because they fear being exposed as weak, insecure men. Your father is a very strong man, Youou, and he has a strong son."

"And you're strong too!" asserted the child across from her. Kurogane sat with all the serenity of a puppy. He shook with barely controlled energy. Eyes like fire flickered across the patio, not content with watching the controlled motions of his mother.

"...Yes, and me too," she amended with a smile.

"And I'm going to be strong like dad, so you won't have any more worries!" he said, bolting up with enthusiasm.

"Sit down, Youou," she spoke lightly as she mixed the green tea. Her son slumped down to near proper, Seiza position. He grumped under his breath about stupid tea. His mother ignored the small fuss.

Instead, she inquired, "Do you know why your dad is strong?"

"Yeah, because he can beat anyone!" he proclaimed with renewed interest. Her eyes focused on her task as she acknowledged him with a quiet hum. Kurogane knew that he somehow got the answer wrong. He did not want his mother to think he was simple or childish. He was a very mature nine-year-old, and he knew the answer. "Dad is strong because he protects us. And I will become strong, so when he gets old, I can take his place. Then I can take care of you, mom!" He spoke sincerely, thinking of the days her body would spasm with coughing fits. She performed her priestess duties every day, though, ignoring her body's pain. She had her own quiet strength about her, supple and resilient, like a reed.

His mother hummed again, pouring the mixture into two cups. He scowled at the tea when it sloshed in his own cup. It was such a boring ceremony! It was not like learning how to drink tea could benefit him in any way. He was going to be a Shinobi like his dad, and warriors could not stop to drink tea in battle!

He mulled over the meaning of strength. What should have been a simple question turned into a riddle. He repeated his mother's words, "Is it because we're different?"

She rotated the cup in her hands, counter-clockwise, and set it down. A knowing smile graced her lips. "Because we're all different, Youou, the answer is different for all of us. Your father and I already found what it means to be strong, and I know you will, too."

He thought to himself about the meaning of strength. The boy still had no idea what his mother meant but figured that he would probably know when he was older and won enough battles. He picked up his tea and rotated the cup, the liquid splashing sloppily over the rim.

...

_Swish Swish Swish_

Kurogane swirled the green mixture with savage, messy strokes. His eyes narrowed at the basin, a look usually reserved for his enemies. With every spilled drop of green tea, he glared with concentrated determination. Why was such a simple task so difficult for him, and why did he have to look like a clumsy child in front of Fay?

"That looks like messy work Kuro-sama," Fay commented. His voice was soft and dreamy. The mage appeared to be in perfect peace. His eyes, half-lidded, gazed with vague contemplation at Kurogane's task. Fay looked natural in his marine kimono, basking in the warm, pink, Nihon sun. Sakura petals swirled around him in the light breeze and scattered across the patio.

He responded, "I'm not used to this. Usually, Tomoyo-hime or someone else hosts." He defended himself rather stiffly. It was not as if Fay judged him. Kurogane never before cared about his near abysmal hosting skills. Tomoyo never corrected his manners either. She would hide her amused smile behind one sleeve while her guests regarded her rude ninja with mouths held open. As if Kurogane cared whether they thought, his posture was poor or his language improper. With Fay, it was a different matter, entirely.

Looking at Fay, he was reminded of why he was giving Fay etiquette lessons. His sun bleached hair and blue eyes stood out like a weed among the natives of Nihon. Not to mention, Fay was a child when it came to 'proper' manners, unlearned, completely ignorant of the complex set of rules that guided society. Most dark haired, dark eyed inhabitants stared at the quirky foreigner with open suspicion. He never worried about Syaoran the way he worried about Fay. That boy adapted customs like changing boots. In addition, his darker hair and brown eyes did not draw nearly as much attention as Fay's appearance. Only in Tomoyo's court was Fay accepted. Although, visiting dignitaries was a different subject. Even under Tomoyo-hime's roof, they muttered about the foreigner in veiled whispers, not considerate enough to lower their voices: "Improper" "Never thought I'd see the day a foreigner..." "What is Tomoyo-hime thinking?"

He blamed nothing on the blond mage who was foreign to custom. Actually, before returning to his homeland, he never gave much thought to it. They were both relative strangers in relatively odd lands, equally ignorant. However, in his home country, the difference in upbringing was evident. Now, Kurogane accepted Fay's natural tendency to invade personal space, his outgoing nature, and flippant speech; granted it could be annoying if Fay persisted. He never thought of him as uncouth or barbaric.

Tomoyo-hime's guests (And he used that term lightly) watched his every move, like a murder of crows waiting for some bloody scraps. They always made snide remarks about how clumsily Fay handled chopsticks. He dropped his food as soon as he picked it up. Even four year olds were dexterous enough to handle two opposing pieces of wood, which was odd because Fay was usually good with his hands on most occasions...with art and stuff.

Two days ago, Fay still showed no improvement at the dinner table. After a dozen or so fumbles, the blond man took one chopstick and speared his gyouza. The pointy end made an audible ping when it hit the plate. The force made the plate catapult another gyouza across the table, right in the sour face of Lord Yamato. Kurogane would have taken savage amusement from the look of Yamato's sticky, displeased face any other day. Over the years, the War Lord had personally dispatched enough assassins to Tomoyo-hime's palace for a small memorial. If it were not for the truce, Kurogane would have cut him down on sight. He almost did, as he was uninformed of the 'peace talks' thanks to his constant absence from his home dimension.

Yamato remained as still as a statue, a stony-faced gargoyle with furious, wide eyes. Fay apologetically made a move to remove the sliding gyouza from his cheek. His nostrils flared as he looked down at Fay's awkward smiling face, almost as if he smelled something rotten. "Don't touched me." The blond slid back into his chair with a small quip about projectile food, which did nothing to alleviate the tension. Yamato, still glaring at the mage, took out a silk cloth, and wiped the sticky mess off his face.

A few unimportant dignitaries gasped at Fay's behavior. Then the heckling began. How was Fay supposed to know about native stigmas? He was considerate, but they only sneered at his attempt to ease the situation: "He should have been more reserved and dignified," and, "You can't teach _them_ anything." Kurogane was raised with these beliefs, but he could not stomach the acidic criticisms that the guests served.

Fay smiled resiliently. Kurogane watched him set down chopsticks, his food barely touched. With an over-exaggerated cheer, he proclaimed he was full. The mage rested his hands on his lap, and grinned absently. Kurogane despised that hollow smile. The moment he saw that cheerful mask, he tensed. Fay wasn't full, he wasn't happy, and he wasn't fooling anyone! He spared a glance at the end of the table to look at Tomoyo-hime's reaction. Her eyes sparkled with concern and her mouth parted slightly. She fought an inward battle between social decorum and compassion. She, like most of society, was obligated to maintain appearances. He knew she was aching to comfort the blond, and would probably do so as soon as she was not tied by custom. Tomoyo was a truly dignified lady. Fortunately, Kurogane was not dignified.

A loud ping was heard as the ninja speared his chopstick into his gyouza. In one swoop, the morsel was stuffed into his mouth, and then another, and another. He did not taste the meal, just forced the sticky, soft pockets of meat down his throat. A few people, Lord Yamato among them, left their seats in disgust, but he did not stop. His plate was empty and his chopstick blunted before he finished. The heartburn was worth it. Fay looked at him with astonished wide eyes. Then a small gracious smile graced his features. That quiet understanding look was all he needed. Fay was most honest when he said nothing at all. A glance in Tomoyo's direction encouraged him further. She peered over her sleeve approvingly, trying to suppress a mad fit of giggles. The sight of her ninja with cheeks like a squirrel must have made her day.

The next day after the chopstick incident, Kurogane dedicated himself to teaching Fay his customs. He persistently believed that Fay would be accepted if he acted normal. His first lesson did not fare well. He thought it was about time Fay learned how to use his chopsticks. The mage was distracting. He could twirl the chopsticks, make chopstick houses, and chopstick mustaches, but he could not eat with them! Fay eventually managed to convince Kurogane to feed him lunch like a baby bird. Then he thought that he should teach something more practical. However, simple greetings proved to be more complicated when the participant could not keep his hands to himself. Personal space was not a word in Fay's dictionary. Although, the teacher was less focused and willing to continue the lesson with fingernails raking against his abs.

Why he thought tea lessons would fare any better, he had no idea. Today, though, his companion was less obtrusive. It could have just been that Kurogane was doing a good enough job sabotaging his own efforts. He never had patience for tea ceremonies before, so how could he expect Fay to take it seriously, especially when he already splashed half the tea on himself? "Here." He offered the cup to the mage.

Fay lifted it to his nose and sniffed. His face scrunched up from the tea's bitter, root aroma. With careful inspection, he swirled the liquid experimentally. "Is this supposed to be consumed, Kuro-sama?"

He turned his own cup in his hands and took a drink of the herbal liquid. Kurogane suppressed the urge to grimace. The liquid really did taste like watered down roots. Turning the cup again, he set it down. "Yes, it's supposed to be soothing," he said in a voice that forced complacency.

"I can think of a lot of things that are soothing, and none of them make me drink icky grass water," he teased. He still had the cup in his hands, but made no move to drink it.

"You haven't even tried it," he retorted. It was important to him that Fay accepted a little bit of his culture, even if it was a stupid thing that he never really understood himself.

"Is it that important to you, Kuro-gramps?" Fay inquired.

Kurogane sighed. Fay and Mokona brainstormed that nickname a little while ago. They figured that since Kuro-daddy was so cute, and he finally grew accustomed to that title, that he should not mind being called Grandpa. Since it was unlikely that Kurogane would sire any offspring of his own, unless he spontaneously sprouted a uterus, he accepted the role. Hell, Syaoran and Sakura might as well have been his and Fay's.

Now, thanks to a time paradox, he was the proud Grandfather of an upstanding young man. If being called Kuro-gramps was the price for having Syaoran as a grandson, then he would put up with it. He put up with a lot worse for Fay's sake, anyway.

After a long moment of staring at the green liquid, Fay lifted the concoction to his lips. "Wait!" Kurogane warned. Fay jerked the cup away from him. A glob splashed and marked the patio.

"What? Is it poison? Don't do that to me Kuro-sama. I really can't handle all this excitement so early in the morning," he rebuffed. He did not frown or put up much of a fuss, but he did look at Kurogane curiously, expecting an answer.

"Well," he said softly, as a way to make up for scaring the blond. It really was a small thing too, and he tried to look for the words to put it in a context that would justify his earlier outburst. "It is a...custom to admire the cup first." He looked down, not being able to make eye contact after that statement. Why the hell couldn't his mother be alive, so she could explain how vastly important this trivial ceremony was?

"Oh?" he responded airily. "It is a really nice cup."

"You aren't supposed to take it literally!" He grasped his own cup, and slammed it on his palm. Rotating it twice, clockwise, he explained, "Like this, mage. You're supposed to turn the cup around, symbolizing admiration…, or something like that. It's _supposed_ to be polite. Now do you see what I mean?" He took a bitter drink. "Then you turn it counterclockwise, like so." He demonstrated and put the cup down.

"Oh, I get it now," Fay responded lightly but with narrowed eyes, "Do what Kuro-sama _wants_, not what Kuro-sama _says_."

Kurogane felt like he had swallowed an iron ball. Of course, the mage was right! He was the one who snapped without proper reason, expecting more out of Fay because… why? He already accepted the mage for all he was, faults and all. He did not want him to change. And he certainly did not need him to be a dull, obedient drone like the dignitaries that haunted Tomoyo-hime's palace.

He did not know what the hell he was trying to accomplish with these etiquette lessons! He never cared about what other people wanted; he even deliberately pissed some people off just so they would leave him alone. Why was it so important! The answer continually fluttered away every time he tried to grasp it. He was painfully reminded of the little boy who was stumped by his mother's worldly wisdom. Now he was a grown man, and as he grappled with his thoughts, he could hear the echo of his mother's patient humming. He ground his teeth in irritation.

"Fine, fine, I'll take the ceremony seriously if Kuro-gramps stops wrinkling his face," Fay reasoned. Kurogane was pulled from his thoughts. He had not realized he was making faces.

"It's not that," he stated, "It's fine. Don't drink the tea." It was his way of telling Fay it was okay, but it did sound like an order.

"It really isn't that big of a deal, see," Fay said; he turned the cup, drank, turned it again, and set it down, a perfect imitation. "Is Kuro-sama happy now?"

Happy? It was really just a hollow gesture of appeasement, just like this was a hollow ceremony of etiquette. What really was there to judge by their actions?

"No," he admitted.

Fay's smile widened, and Kurogane knew he was frustrated. "Well, I am just out of ideas. If this can't make you happy, then I might as well leave." He lifted himself off the floor and stared down at the ninja with one blue eye and one gold eye. Kurogane reflexively rubbed his left arm. Underneath the silk fabric, he felt the smooth metal of his prosthetic arm. He gave his arm for Fay, so giving him an answer should be easier and less painful.

"Stay," he blurted out. Fay looked at him quizzically. "That's all I want. Just stay."

"I could have done that easily, Kuro-sama." His voice was almost soft enough to blow away on the breeze. "Why all this?"

He responded, "I don't want you to leave."

"I already said I would stay…"

"I don't want you to leave, ever." Damn, this was difficult for him to admit. If only he could hack off his other arm instead! He swallowed his stoicism and hoped the mage would not tease him too much. "I know it is difficult to live here, and I don't expect you to stay with me…."

"It's not like I have anywhere else to go," Fay reminded him.

"Can you just listen?" he asked while forcing back a headache. Recognizing his rudeness he ground out a, "please?" Fay smirked at his attempt. "I just need to know that you aren't going to be chased out, change your mind, or run away from me if it gets rough."

"And drinking tea is supposed to assure that? I'm lost, Kuro-sama."

"It's not the tea! Okay, it is the tea, but it's more than the tea! Don't pretend you don't hear what people say," he argued, and the muscles in Fay's jaw tensed. "But it doesn't matter, or it shouldn't matter. Or it does matter, but not to me! I just don't want that to be a reason for you to leave!" He punctuated his statement by fisting his hand against the patio.

The mage lowered his head. With a defiant smile, he said, "I wouldn't leave just because Kuro-sama's people don't accept me."

Kurogane pushed himself up harshly. "They aren't _my _people," he argued. "The only ones you need to listen to are Tomoyo-hime, Souma, and Amaterasu. Even the manjuu bun is worth listening to…every once in a while. But you don't need to listen to insecure people who are too weak to accept others! If they can't accept the man I love then screw them!" He shocked himself with his own confession. He never said that word before, always thought it to be a trivial concept best left unsaid and better understood with actions.

Fay stared at him. His eyes were wide but not watery or sparkly, and Kurogane was eternally thankful that the mage was not the sappy type. Fay responded with his usual cheer, "And I need to listen to Kuro-sama, right?" Kurogane flushed; the warmth spread across his face.

Fay continued, "So should we drink grass tea, Kuro-sama?"

"Well," he paused. The insecure word hung helplessly in the air. After such an emotional confession, Fay's response seemed so mundane but somehow appropriate. His body relaxed, as if a great weight lifted off his shoulders. Perhaps, the rest was best left unsaid.

"Maybe," suggested Fay, "We should enjoy the fresh air a little longer." He sat back down with his legs tucked underneath him. Calmly, arithmetically, he took the cup into his own hands rotated it, and grimaced as he sipped the concoction. "Maybe some honey or milk would help?"

It could have just been the effects of the Nihon weather, but looking at Fay, he was reminded of why he fought so hard to keep him close. The wind carried a sweet earthy smell, like fresh bamboo sprouts, mixed with the scent of running water. Sakura trees partially shaded them, the shadows of their branches marking Fay in a delicate crisscross pattern. His robes draped halfway off his shoulder, revealing skin like peaches. Kurogane did not know whether he was still incapable of tying his obi properly, or if he did it purposely to drive him crazy.

They sat in silence, enjoying the natural company. Kurogane appreciated these moments as much as any other moment. Sure, the memories that they built on the patio would fade over time and blend with other uneventful serene moments, but they gathered in a special place. He was more likely to remember their fight. However, this moment, with Fay and him would merge with other memories and become one giant pool of tranquility. He could take refuge in that thought whenever they fought or whenever Fay said something completely inappropriate.

Fay broke the silence, but it was not unwelcomed. It was not as if the mage had that horrible of a voice; it was rather soft and musical, actually. "It snowed a lot in Celes. I remember a lot of white. Kuro-sama, what does the color white represent?"

"Death," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" he said with interest. "That's funny because where I came from it represents purity." Kurogane snorted but did not comment. He had a hard time, as he thought about Fay's old white coat, imagining him as pure.

"I do miss the snow, but now that I think about it…, it was rather cold and unwelcoming," he reminisced. "But these petals are just like snow, only warmer. Do they represent anything, Kuro-sama?" As Fay spoke, a petal floated into his tea, creating tiny ripples.

"Death."

The mage chuckled. "Hmm… that is quite an all-purpose representation. Is there something that doesn't represent death?"

Kurogane smiled himself. It was rather twisted humor, like laughing at an old man falling down. "If you must know, they used to be white. It's an old wives' tale really, but it is said that a corpse is buried under each Sakura tree. The petals are only beautiful because they drink the blood of the dead."

"I didn't think Kuro-sama would be the type to listen to old wives' tales."

"I'm not," he stated. So what? He knew one myth. The mage had better not expect him to tell him bedtime stories, now. "It's just superstition. Besides, they also represent a new beginning." He said the last part with heat rushing to his face. It was such a sentimental statement!

"How inspiring!" Fay approved. "It's such a nice color. Besides…," he trailed off as a wolfish grin spread on his face, "Kuro-sama looks so fetching in pink, but even more so out of it!" Kurogane picked at his pink hakama in response, his face blushing to match the color.

"Shu-shut up," he spluttered.

Fay laughed appreciatively. "It's only a compliment. Kuro-sama flinches from neither magic, nor sword, nor spear, but shies away from attention. How can such a big strong man be so adorable?" He allowed Fay to have his laugh at his expense. He deserved it for parading the mage through ridiculous lessons. However, he would not get away so easily come the afternoon. When that time came, Fay had better run.

Fay eventually tired of jokes. The day inched on and the sun peaked higher in the sky. Kurogane had been mulling over his behavior. He fought to come to a decision, something to actually bring closure to the morning's events. "I'm sorry," the ninja grunted. It was an apology, regardless of the tone, and he was sincere.

Fay stared into the murky, cold depths of his tea. After a moment that stretched far too long, he spoke, "I should be sorry. I misunderstood your intentions, thinking you were trying to change me, or that you were unhappy with me, so I purposely gave you a hard time. Should have known better - Kuro-sama is always grumpy but loyal. I thought I was past making stupid mistakes." He smiled bitterly.

"Don't be so stu…you weren't mistaken," he said gruffly. Taking the edge out of his voice proved difficult. "It was my fault for not making my intentions clear, so don't even try to blame yourself."

Fay nodded, completely at ease with Kurogane's rough character and brutish way of handling problems. "Really should have known better. Kuro-sama is very noble and strong. The way you defended me at dinner the other night was the single bravest thing I ever witnessed." Though Kurogane doubted that stuffing his face was comparable to defending Fay against a horde of monsters, he still accepted the compliment. He was just glad they finished with the drama.

"Oh," exclaimed the mage as he saw Kurogane lift the cup for a drink, "You forgot to admire it first." He smirked, and the ninja immediately recognized his own words thrown back at him. He did the only thing that seemed natural.

"It's a really nice cup," Kurogane deadpanned before gulping the whole thing down.

**oOo**

Post-Notes: I have heard fans tease that Kurogane would spontaneously combust before he said the word "love." Funny image that is, and I agree, but I just wanted to try a scenario where he accidentally let it slip. Originally, I would have scoffed at the idea of a proposal from the ninja; however, I have grown fond of oopsy-confessions, nothing too flowery or poetic.

I have taken part in a traditional Tea Ceremony, thanks to a Japanese teacher I had. The students were horrible about remembering the motions though. Some of them needed hot chocolate. I was the odd one out who actually enjoyed the green tea, so I had to use a different perspective when describing how gross it is. It really isn't!

I do not usually like using honorifics in my fics, preferring English equivalents. Kuro-sama is the exception, as 'Master Kuro or Kuro-master' does not have the same connotation of respect and admiration; it sounds more kinky and dirty…, and belongs in a NC-17 fic. Gyouza are another exception, the Japanese name for pot-stickers. I also prefer the Japanese term for Cherry Blossom trees, Sakura, as it is a reminder of the cute girl they left in Clow. Other than that, I stayed away from romaji.

Additionally, the setting is post-manga. Technically, they're still traveling with Syaoran and Mokona. However, that did not pertain to this fic, so it wasn't elaborated.

I apologize. This story is not beta'd; I edited it myself. Currently, I am searching for a beta, so expect better quality in the future.


End file.
